


The Needy Psychiatrist

by thatwasnotmydesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Creeper Hannibal, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Other, Possessive Hannibal, Someone Help Will Graham, Will has a clingy psychiatrist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwasnotmydesign/pseuds/thatwasnotmydesign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is getting increasingly tired of his psychiatrist's need to be Best Friends Forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Needy Psychiatrist

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure crack written from the ideas given to me by the fantastic hannibaby. Hannibal's behaviour is loosely based on Franklyn's puppy love. Rated T for some swearing.
> 
> I don't own the characters, or in fact McDonald's.

Will Graham was exhausted.  He had spent the night half-awake, nightmares mingling with semiconscious, feverish thought.  He was now in his psychiatrist’s office, attempting to find a way to weave them into the conversation.

This was proving unexpectedly difficult.  Will suspected it would be a lot easier had his psychiatrist not insisted on playing classical music in the background at an uncomfortable volume and pouring gallons of wine into Will’s glass every time he’d managed to finish it.  It might also have been a tad easier if Dr. Lecter would at least pretend to be interested.

Over the past few weeks, Dr. Lecter had seemed more delusional than his patient – an alarming observation when one took into account the fact that said patient spent a good chunk of his time hallucinating about wildlife.  Lecter seemed to have a sort of… fixation on becoming Will’s best friend, and appeared to believe that this was mutual.  Every time Will tried to point out that his advances were inappropriate, Lecter would go into a huff.  “Fine then, _William_ ,” he would say, sounding like a moody toddler every time, “if you don’t want to be my friend then I can’t help you.  You can’t be so hostile, you know.  I told you many times that I am not officially your therapist and if you don’t want to be my friend I see no reason to meet.  Who else will help you?  Yeah, that’s right.  Now drink up”.  
  
Will sighed heavily and took a gulp of the wine.  He was starting to feel tipsy and Lecter looked pleased about this.  
  
“I had a nightmare, Dr. Lecter,” he ventured.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, what else is new.  Tell me something interesting.  Would you like to see my tie collection?  I really must take you shopping.  That shirt looks terrible, and looks just like all your other shirts.  How do you expect to get a girlfriend?”  Dr. Lecter eyed Will’s plaid shirt with disdain, as if he was pouring all his frustrations into it.  “You dress terribly, you haven’t had a haircut in weeks and you seem to think that horrible aftershave with the ship on the bottle is in any way acceptable.  You really must start taking better care of your appearance, Will.”

“I told you, I keep getting it for Christm—”

“That’s settled, then, I’m taking you shopping tomorrow.”

“No, you’re not.  I don’t want to go shopping and I don’t want to look for a girlfriend, I’m unstable and the last thing I need is another person expecting things of me.  When I killed Hobb—”

“Do you have to keep talking about him?  I mean really, do you have to?” Lecter’s accusing glance moved from the shirt to Will’s face, “I do so much for you,” he continued, a little flushed, “I bought wine, I finished work early, I put music on.  I hoped we could have a nice chat.  Instead you come here and talk about all these other people and other things.  Aren’t we friends, Will?  I just want to spend time with you.  I just want five minutes without you talking about negative things.”  He pouted.

Will sighed again, finishing his glass of wine just to avoid losing his patience with Lecter.

“Doctor Lecter… I am not a well man.  There is no positivity in my head.  What do you expect me to say?”

“You’re not trying to be happy, that’s your problem.  If you would just try a little bit.  Appreciate other people,” Lecter finished pointedly.

“I’m sorry,” Will groaned, defeated.  “I’m a bad friend and now I’m drunk and can’t drive home.  Can you drive me?”

“No, but you can stay in my spare bedroom,” Lecter’s face lit up again.

* * *

 

He woke with a start, trying to remember where he was.  He was covered in sweat and his breathing came in panicked gasps.  He turned to make sure the bloodied corpse next to him had been a dream, but in the darkness he could see the outline of a profile.  His heart in his throat, he fumbled for the light switch.

It was Lecter, sleeping peacefully, his covers bulging weirdly as if he was holding a pillow.  What the hell was Lecter doing in bed with him?  Will cleared his throat loudly, hoping to wake him, but Lecter looked completely undisturbed.  His breathing was even and relaxed, a far cry from Will’s anxious rasps. 

Curious, Will peeled back the covers.  Lecter was clutching one of those obscenely expensive mohair teddy bears.  His pyjamas were expensive as well, perhaps silk.  Even asleep, he looked somewhat pompous.

“So you’ve met Will,” his psychiatrist smiled, opening his eyes and holding out the bear.

“What?”

“This is my teddy bear, Will.  His name is Will because I named him after you, because we’re friends.  Did you sleep well?”

“It is four o’clock in the morning and all I do is have nightmares, no I did not.  What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was lonely and we are friends,” Lecter said, wrapping himself in the covers again.  He turned on his side and closed his eyes, clearly believing this explained everything.

Will turned the light back off and attempted to go back to sleep.

* * *

 

The next time he remembered waking up, Lecter had shaken him by the shoulders.  Groggy and pissed off, he glared up at his failure of a psychiatrist, but Lecter gave him a wide smile.

“Will!  You’re awake!  I made you breakfast, because you know, we are BFF’s, as they say, I believe?”

“We’re what?”

“BFF’s!” Lecter repeated enthusiastically, shoving a tray full of food at him.  “We’re best friends and I bought you something I will give you later!”  He looked pleased with himself, which concerned Will.

“I’m not hungry,” Will said carefully, hoping this wasn’t going to make Lecter get in one of his moods again. “I just woke up and I think all I want right now is a really strong coffee or more sleep.  Preferably the sleep one.”

“Aww, Willy, you can’t do that!”  Lecter was still disturbingly enthusiastic, and shoved the tray at him again, with more force and less regard for the cutlery.  “I’m taking you shopping today, remember?  You will need your energy, we’re getting you a whole new wardrobe!”

“I didn’t agree to go shopping and I certainly did not agree to be called ‘Willy’.  Why are you doing this?”  Will asked desperately.

“Eat your breakfast, the shops will close,”  Lecter responded, sounding less pleased.

Will rubbed his right eye and squinted at the bedside clock.  It was 7.30 a.m.  He didn’t feel like arguing and took the tray from Lecter.  Chewing the bacon absent-mindedly, he wondered how Lecter prepared his meat; there was something very different about it that he could never recreate.  Maybe it’s just because I’m a lousy cook, he admitted to himself, trying not to fear what Lecter could possibly have bought for him. 

* * *

The gift had been a friendship bracelet.  Will had known his psychiatrist was a little strange, but this was just bizarre.  What was worse, Lecter had made him wear it and pouted whenever he saw Will without it.  Will made sure to always keep it in his pocket in case he met Lecter somewhere unexpected – which happened more often than he was comfortable with.

He hated the damn thing.  It was sterling silver, and the only charm on it was a set of fucking antlers.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he whispered helplessly, unlocking his front door.  It had been a long day and he was glad to be home with the dogs… and without his clingy psychiatrist.

He frowned, the door appeared to be unlocked already.  Perhaps he had forgotten to lock it that morning.  It would not have been surprising; his mind seemed to play more and more tricks on him and he had next to no psychiatric help to make it stop.  He peered in – nothing seemed out of order.  Everything was as he’d left it and the last time Lecter had been there, he couldn’t resist cleaning up.  He kept his hand on his gun just in case as he walked around the house, stopping a few times to listen for suspicious sounds.  Nothing.

Relaxing, he poured himself a whiskey and settled on his bed.  He was going straight to sleep.

He woke up to a hand touching his face and a voice whispering “shhh, there, there, friend”.  He let out a small scream and sat up, swatting the hand away.

Lecter was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking hurt and a little offended. “I was only trying to calm you down.  You seemed to be having a bad dream.”

“Doctor Lecter… I hate to be impolite, but why are you here?  And how did you get in?”

“I’ve been here all day, Will.  I made a copy of your key yesterday, I want to be able to see you if you call in sick.  It’s what friends like us do.  I believe when you came home I must have gone out to get some groceries for you, because by the time I came back you were asleep.  And please call me Hannibal.  Dr. Lecter is so awfully formal, we’re BFF’s after all.  I baked you some cake for tomorrow.”

* * *

It had been two months since Will first woke up in the unexpected presence of Dr. Lecter.  Inexplicably, Lecter seemed to know everything about Will: he was there when Will went to pick up his car from the mechanic, he happened to be in the supermarket when Will was getting his groceries – Will preferred not to ask what he was doing buying groceries so far away from home – a couple of times he pulled up next to Will at an intersection.  One time, as Will was entering a petrol station, Lecter was already waiting for him with a petrol pump in his hand, wearing some strange apron designed to keep his clothes clean.  Another time, Lecter had waited until Will’s mail came just so he could bring it into the house.

Lecter also liked to leave him little gifts on his desk at work.  Sometimes they were chocolate bars or fancy pens, occasionally books he thought Will would like, neatly wrapped in gift paper.  One of them was _A Gentleman’s Guide to Dressing for Every Occasion_.  Will didn’t really wear the clothes Lecter had bought for him the day of their big shopping trip (they were stiff, expensive and he felt awkward in them), which had clearly not escaped Hannibal’s attention.

It was an overcast, sleepy Monday.  Will made his way to the classroom, expecting to see another neat package on his desk, with a perfectly aligned ribbon on it.  Instead, he found Lecter, wearing Will’s spare glasses and lying on the desk leafing through some notes.

“You teach some interesting classes here,” Lecter said, apparently pleased to see Will.

“I really have to read through these.  Can you see like that?” Will had long given up on pointing out that Lecter’s lack of boundaries was unsettling him.

“I’m actually thinking of getting a pair of glasses for myself.  I think people will be able to see that we’re friends better if our glasses match,” Lecter smiled widely.  “I love having a best friend,” he continued dreamily, “we can do so many things together.  Would you like to go to the opera tomorrow?  I got you aftershave so you don’t embarrass me.”

“I’m embarrassed to know you,” Will muttered, instantly hoping to God Lecter wouldn’t hear him.

Oblivious, Lecter prattled on.  “Will and Hannibal, best friends.  Maybe we should get that tattooed somewhere.  Tattoos are so uncultured, though.  So common.  I like that both our names have double letters in them.  I think it shows that we’re a good match.  Are you still coming to the session tonight?”

Lecter slid off the desk and handed Will his notes.  “Here, my friend.  See you later.  I hope we can watch a movie.  I read that best friends do that,” he explained, smiling widely.

Will hoped there’d at least be alcohol again.  Being drunk would at least make it less mortifying.

* * *

The only place Lecter refused to set foot in was McDonald’s, which contributed to a steady decline in Will’s nutrition as he spent more and more time at his local restaurant.  The first few times, Lecter had stood outside with a bag of homemade food, knocking on the glass and giving Will accusing looks, so Will learnt to keep his head down and choose a seat far away from the window.  He only went home to sleep and feed the dogs, because his psychiatrist had the key and used it frequently.  He completely gave up on using his home to do anything private after he was surprised by Lecter in an expensive-looking T-shirt and shorts.  He’d been watching a cheesy workout video and attempting to be flexible when he heard a happy “let’s do this together, my friend!” followed by Lecter doing the exercise twenty times better and somehow retaining poise.

It was time to stop this madness.  Will couldn’t go on like this, he couldn’t not have access to the privacy of his own home.  He decided he would change the locks.  It was brilliant – he had no idea why he hadn’t thought of this before.  Feeling happy for the first time in months, he whistled quietly as he drove to work.  The Chesapeake Ripper seemed to have stopped his killings lately so he could focus on simply teaching.  Lecter was going to have no keys to his home, he would finally be able to take a shower without looking around nervously all the time… it was going to be a brilliant day.

The day went by smoothly.  His gift for the day was not passive-aggressive, his students were attentive, and during lunch, he arranged for a locksmith to come to his house.  This meant he could have a restful night at last.  He couldn’t wait to get home.  He picked up his new keys from the locksmith’s shop after work and drove home listening to nice, calming music.

He unlocked his door, relief washing over him, both because the new key actually fit and because his obsessive psychiatrist could not reach him in a place that wasn’t McDonald’s.  Gleefully, he switched on the TV to watch a trashy reality TV show he would never admit to liking.

“You know, I never would have expected my BFF to like such horrid programming,” he heard from beside him.

He couldn’t believe this.  Lecter was sitting in a chair in the room, drinking a glass of wine.

“Hannibal, I—”

“I let the locksmith in and got a copy of the key from him so you wouldn’t have to worry about getting one made for me,” Lecter grinned, clearly pleased that he’d done Will such a favour.

Lecter watched him for a moment, wondering why his BFF had such a peculiar expression on his face.

“I know you’re tired, friend.  I know just the thing to make you feel better.  Let’s go get a manicure!”

Will sank into his couch, trying not to cry. 


End file.
